


Little Bird

by Enderon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Character Death, Depression, F/F, F/M, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and the recent live show confirmed that he was alreayd having sex as a teenager, cause you know how scanlan is, essentially the story of scanlan's life, it's gonna be pretty sad, more implied than anything - Freeform, really sad in places, some underage sexual stuff, though never anything graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:24:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enderon/pseuds/Enderon
Summary: Burt ReynoldsKingslayerThe Meat ManFrancois Bertrand Jean-Luc AustraliaAes AdonEverywhere Scanlan Shorthalt went he was known by some name; from the nobility of Emon, to the business of Ank'Ahrel, to the religious zest of Vasselheim, he had a name and it was known.But one name he wished to bury in some dark hole, never to be seen again. Because only one person, only one soft voice, punctuated by a gentle touch and a sweet laugh, could ever call him by that name."My little bird."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm just kind of redoing the original work to make it better. I would have just edited the original, but I want people to actually notice this, some I'm just completely remaking the Ao3 entry.
> 
> EDIT: So, this fic now kind of has a theme song. At least, it's now the song i listen to when i thnk about it and am writing it.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOM7PudV0h0&list=PLin6KdGryqKPptDJqEYXdc30OBAapDVGQ&index=1

It all started in a little village on the Eastern coast of Tal'Dorei; situated a nice, short days worth of a wagon ride away from Stilben. It really wasn't much in the way of villages, just barely scraping the line to deserve that title rather than just being referred to as a couple of shops and houses that just happened to all be situated in the same area. Despite it's smaller size, it wasn't a particularly bad village. The people were nice and there was good enough business to live off of, so most of it's inhabitants lived a rather content life.

Most being the key word.

"Baervan be damned, what do you expect me to do? Pull the money from the air like some party magician? I don't have it all, I've taken a whole extra shift at Milby's and I still don't have enough for you."

Two large, rounded orbs of brown poked over the sill of the window, trying to get a look into the small darkened room of the hut. The gloom was nothing for the slight dark vision the creature possessed, and the orbs could just make out the slight, smaller form of a female gnome, her face etched with distress as she seemed to try and convey something to the taller, male gnome she was speaking to. The creature could not see the male's face, but they didn't really need to, they knew perfectly well who it was and the way that his face was pulled into a look of absolute grief and sympathy for the desperate woman in front of him."

I know Juniper, I know you're trying. And I'm sympathetic, I really am, but if I don't get all the money in the next fortnight than Alavar is going to kick you two out," a hand shot forth to rest comfortingly on the woman's shoulder as her face dropped to the ground, her long brown hair obscuring her expression from the curious orbs outside, "I'll try and hold him off a bit, but I can only do so much without getting myself fired….. Don't give me that look, I've got a family to care for myself."

Juniper had raised her head up just enough to part her dark brown locks and send a heated glare in her associate's direction, something grievous burning within that look.

The man's body shook with a deep throated sigh as he turned away from her.

The creature decided that this was the moment to act, jumping down off of the crates they'd clambered on top of so as to look inside, before racing over to place themselves right in the doorway as the slab of wood peeled back. The gnome didn't seem to see the creature and looked to be about to walk right into them, until an indignant "Hey!" sounded out, and he looked down, surprise quickly followed by that same look of sympathy.

"Scanlan," he breathed out, placing a wide hand on top of the young gnome's much smaller head, "Boys your age shouldn't be snooping about."

In reply, Scanlan said nothing, merely stared up at the aging man with a hard look and wide eyes.

The man was loath to note the way the boy's bark brown skin pulled taught over prominent cheekbones, no ounce of baby fat showing on a gnome that was still of an age that he should be called chubby. To see the way there seemed to be prominent dark circles around his eyes, eyes that seemed far too large for his tiny little head. To notice the way his tattered, stained, and old clothing seemed to hang off his minuscule frame, almost as if he were drowning in the material.

And all he did was stare.

With another woeful sigh, the man turned over his shoulder.

"I can hold him off until the next fortnight," he promised, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Juniper's glare evaporated into something far more grateful, "But that's all the time I can give you Juniper, no more after that. If you don't have the money ready by then, then you two will have to leave, no matter what I say or do."

Receiving a firm nod from the gnomish woman, the man looked back down at Scanlan, gave the tiny head a fond little pat, and set foot onto the dusty path through the village to seek out his lodgings at the local inn. Watching him go for a few minutes, Scanlan's blank expression faded as a large grin pulled at his cheeks, and he turned to the woman inside the hut with a twinkle in his eyes and whistle on his tongue.

Seeing his little face like that, Juniper couldn't help mirroring it, her nose crinkling in mirth as she held her arms open, encouraging him to come to her and wrapping him up as tight as she could.

"Oh Scanlan, oh my clever little boy," she squeezed and laughed, letting him go only far back enough so that she could fondly bonk her forehead into his, "I don't know what you did but whatever it was, you've just saved us."

"Din't do nutin," the little gnome squeaked out, his eyes twinkling with a bright gleam of mischief that betrayed his insistence, "Just looked at im."

"Well, whatever it was it was enough, and now we've got the time." With a happy smile, she got to her feet and set the little one on the floor before moving over to close the open doorway. As she did, she caught sight of the elderly halfling across the way, the much older woman giving her a questioning look and a tip of the head in the direction the man had gone. Juniper responded to her with a warm smile that seemed to set the woman at ease, and turned back to her child.

"I'm very grateful for what you did Sweetheart," she said, her bright and happy smile dipping into something a bit more troubled, "But what have I told you about lingering around here when Jon comes to collect? I don't like you listening in on these sorts of things."

"But Ibutē-"

"No buts about it mister. You're far too young to be listening on and worrying yourself over these sorts of things," the sad smile on her face, Juniper padded forward gently to kneel in front of him, placing a rough and calloused hand against his bony cheek, "I don't want you to be growing up just yet little bird. Go and play with the other kids and leave the money problem to me." When tears started to prick at the corners of large eyes, she smiled a little more brightly and rubbed a thumb underneath to catch them. "Your ibutē is pretty strong, I can handle it."

"Okay." Scanlan looked a bit dejected for a moment before puffing his cheeks out and giving them a few little slaps, wiping a stained sleeve under his eyes a few times before pulling his arm back to reveal a bright and happy grin. Juniper grinned back, bonking their foreheads together a second time before getting back to her feet and moving to a back corner of the hut where a large crate rested. Digging around inside, she came up with an apron which she tied around her front before pulling her waist length air up into a messy bun.

"I've got the midday shift at Milby's in a little bit so I'll be gone until sundown. Think you can hold down the fort me while I'm gone?"

"Yup!! You can count on me," with a little whoop and holler, the tiny little gnome boy threw his little fists around  in a way that perhaps was meant to be threatening but came across as far more cute than anything else, "If anyone tries to break in and steal our stuff, I'll give em what for!"

Juniper smiled again, the expression pulling at the wrinkled skin around her eyes and making the filtered in sunlight dance in her eyes. Smoothing back his hair and placing an affectionate kiss on his forehead, she moved outside, gracing him with a last little wave before shutting the door behind him, leaving Scanlan alone.

Once she was gone, his happy and playful expression dropped into a frustrated one.

"Next fortnight, next fortnight, tha's not enough time," he mumbled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring holes into the dirt covered floor, "The winter season's comin soon and visitors are gonna stop comin as much. That means there won't be as much business at Milby's to get any real livin money and seamstress work don't pay well enough to cover the slack," moving towards the pot obscured within the currently unused fireplace, he pulls fit out to peek inside at the scant coins littering the bottom, "We don't even have half of it and i's just gonna get worse." Having thought it all over, Scanlan fell to his knees in front of the pot, hanging his head and looking absolutely miserable.

"We're gonna loose our home." He breathed, bringing his hands up to try and wipe away the tears that were suddenly falling down his cheeks. But once he had come to this realization, he just couldn't stop them, giving himself up to uselessly sobbing on the floor as he lamented the fate of himself and his mother, homeless in the coming winter.

It seemed that precious little time had passed before he heard the familiar telltale sound of Juniper's whistling, a sound that was far more contented than could be called happy, but which usually brought him comfort. Right then all it brought him was a feeling of urgency as he quickly picked himself off the floor, shoved the pot back to its place in the fireplace, and scrubbed fitfully at his dampened cheeks. Making do with how much he had managed to dry up, Scanlan hoped that the dim light would help hide the redness of his face and plastered on a happy smile just as the door opened and in walked Juniper.

But she wasn't alone.

Oh.

It was going to be one of those nights.

That meant she knew just as well as he did just how screwed they were.

The tall halfling man looming behind his mother gave him a warm smile and friendly little wave, no doubt having been pre-warned about the presence of a child in the house.

"Scanlan sweetheart, could you be a dear and go buy some bread for dinner?" Juniper asked, her voice all sugary sweetness and notched up an octave or two, so as to sound all that much sweeter and desirable.

Apparently it's what the men liked in a woman.

"Of course Mother." His tongue curling a bit over the common term, but not liking to use the gnomish word when there was a stranger looking at his beloved ibutē like she was some piece of meat. But he said nothing, merely smiled nicely at the two of them as he plucked the offered copper from her outstretched hand and vacated the property, not wanting to be anywhere near home when things got down to business.

He hated it.

He hated it!

HE HATED IT!!

Heat burned his eyes as he quickly scurried down the darkening street, thankful that most people were inside so nobody could stop to ask him where he was running off to with such a woeful expression. Not that many people would. Scanlan and Juniper's situation wasn't exactly the biggest secret in the village, and it wasn't uncommon to see the young little gnome boy running about with some sort of distressed look on his face.

It was the life of the poor and the desperate and the starving, and while many wished to help, there was only so much they could do.

Which why his mother was back there, in their home, with some stranger, giving to him what should be hers and hers alone, all for an extra bit of coin so they can pay the rent and maybe also still be able to eat.

He ran, and ran, and ran, until finally dirt gave way to wooden planks, his feet thumping against the hard dock as he scurried his little way right down to the very end, right where the wood gave way to a vast expanse of water.

It was beautiful, truly breathtaking for someone who wasn't used to it.

But the water wasn't what Scanlan was looking at. His gaze was fixed above, to the increasingly darker and darker sky, bright, twinkling lights flashing to life as the evening gave way to night. The moon shone bright somewhere behind him, but Scanlan didn't care about that, his gaze fixed firmly on the flickering stars above.

"You don't have ta worry bout stuff like this, do you?" he yelled out, his face crumpled into a miserable rage, hot tears streaking down his cheeks, "You don't have ta worry bout stuff like food and money and rent and strangers in your bed! YOU'RE CARELESS!!!!"

Releasing a piercing wail, a ripple of electricity shot forth from his hand, slicing down into the water. The air was filled with smell of something burning before a couple of fish bodies bobbed to the top, lifeless and dull.

Huffing and gasping and trying to hold back sobs, Scanlan gave his hand an affronted look before balling it into a fist and dropping down to let his legs hang out over the edge, watching as fat little tears made ripples in the water below.

When Scanlan returned home some time later, the halfling had left and his mother was kneeled in front of the fireplace, the pot upturned and all of the coins laid out on the ground. She seemed to be counting through their savings and the look on her face was grim.

As he approached her, though, her distress quickly shifted into cheer as she gestured to the shining material on the ground.

"We'll have it all in no time at all." She assured, smiling brightly and scooping them all up to drop back into the pot with a loud, obvious clang.

Scanlan smiled back, not having the heart to tell her that he already knew.

Instead, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his face into her shoulder and letting out a content sigh. She didn't startle a bit, just wrapped her arms around his back and held him close to her, moving a hand up to move through his curly, brown hair.

"I don't like when you bring strangers home." Scanlan mumbled into the material of her blouse. He pulled away a little bit after feeling her shoulder slump down and looked to her with something pleading. "There's gotta be other ways to make the money."

"Oh, my sweet sweet little one, that I wish there was," with a little huff, Juniper got to her feet, shifting Scanlan onto her hip, and relocated the two of them to the bed, resting back against the wall and allowing the much smaller gnome to curl up in the crook of her arm. He continued to cling to her, even as a light, gentle, sweet hum broke away from her. It was a tune she sang often, a sort about a daring little gnome that had left their safe, forest home and had ventured off into the world to seek out their destiny.

The ending was a happy one, with the gnome succeeding in their mission and saving all of the people. But it was also a rather ambiguous one, not explicitly saying whether or not the gnome lived.

That had always bothered Scanlan for some reason.

"My little bird." Juniper hummed, continuing to play with his hair, closing her eyes in a content expression.

"Why you always callin me that?" Scanlan piped up, puffing his cheeks out  a little bit, "I aint little and I aint no bird."

That made Juniper laugh, a strong, chortle sound that was in no way pretty, but which Scanlan had always loved. It made him smile despite himself.

"I call you my little bird because one day, I know that you'll fly far, far away from this place, to cities, to lands, to worlds we've never seen," with a bright smile, she poked a callused finger into a puffed out cheek, wrinkling her nose up at the childish giggle she got in return, "Maybe not now, but that's just cause your feathers haven't come in yet, so you're still stuck on the ground with the rest of us," slowly and subtly, the smile shifted from bright and playful into something far more wistful, "One day Scanlan, I know you're going to be something magnificent."

The child blinked up into his mother's eyes, a matching shade of brown to his, and reached up, placing a hand on the side of her face and pulling a look of determination.

"I'll take you with me." He insisted, earnest and honest and oh so innocent.

Juniper merely smiled more and pulled him even closer, closing her eyes and continuing to hum. After a few minutes, the breath against her neck evened out and she released the smile she had been holding.

"Oh my little bird," she breathed, a tear coming to her eye, "I'm afraid that not all of us were gifted with flight like you."

The next week wasn’t too much different than any other week before it; Juniper went to work and Scanlan either stayed home to entertain himself or went with her to help out however he could and to see if any of the patrons would take pity on him and give him a few extra coins. After all, every little bit counted in the long run.

That day he had decided to accompany his ibutē, fining the weather of the day too cold to be spending inside their dark little hut. Instead, he was enjoying the heat of the inn and the entertainment of a small troop of musicians that had placed themselves in the back corner of the room and were playing some light, fun tunes, to help the atmosphere. Scanlan was on top of a woody old stool at the bar, watching the group in fascination, moving his eyes to gaze over each of their unique and individual instruments. 

They weren't anything too special; a lute, a flute, a small pair of drums, and a lyre, but to Scanlan they were amazing. He’d always had such a fascination for such things, always wanting more than anything to own a little instrument of his own.

But instruments cost money, and he wasn’t about to push his ibutē to buy him one when they needed that money for far more important things.

"Well, hello there, aren't you a little young to be in a place like this?"

With a little jump, Scanlan turned to see what looked to be a young human girl taking the stool right next to him, a pleasant and friendly smile on her face. She didn't look all that threatening, but Scanlan didn't exactly have the best trust in people.

"Was'it to you?" He huffed, pulling quite an expert look of annoyance across his face; at the very least it was expert in his opinion.

"Oh, my apologies, I didn't mean to offend," a sheepish expression fell over her face before her smile returned, "Do you live in this village?"

"…………" Scanlan looked her up and down, trying to find any detail in her expression that implied that she wished him any harm, "My mother says I shouldn't talk to strangers."

"I see, and your mother would be very right to say so, as strangers can be dangerous sometimes," clearing her throat a little bit, the human extended her hand, "My name is Sindra, I am a bard. Now that I've given you my name, I am no longer a stranger."

"Hmmmm, I guess that's right," with a smile making its way onto his own face, Scanlan gladly took the offered hand, "My name is Scanlan, Scanlan Shorthalt. I'm nuthin."

Sindra gave him a bright, friendly smile, and turned to look at the band of musicians he had been watching.

“They’re pretty good.” She commented, closing her eyes as if to better enjoy the music.

“Yeah,” Scanlan breathed in agreement, the wonder still in his face as he watched them, “Are they bards like you?”

“Could be,” Sindra admitted, opening her eyes again to turn towards him, “But not all musicians are bards, and I don’t see any weapons on that lot, so I’d say not.”

Scanlan turned his whole body to face her, a curious thought pestering the back of his mind.

“What’s the difference between a musician and a bard?”

Sindra seemed amused by the question, letting out a tinkling little giggle before a thoughtful expression passed over her face.

“Well, I’ve never thought too much about how to word it,” she admitted, scrunching her nose up in a thoughtful way, “I guess the easiest way to describe the difference would to say it’s magic.”

“Magic?” The little gnome seemed confused by that, though his heart leapt a bit, feeling that familiar tingle at his fingertips.

“Yes, magic. You see, a musician creates music and sound solely for the purpose of entertainment, or to tell a story, whereas a bard creates music and sound in order to channel their magic into that of a spell. Not to say that musicians can’t have magic, but it’s the specific ability to channel that magic through words and sound that makes a bard.”

Scanlan stared at her a moment, his eyes wide, before staring down at his open palms, concentrating and watching a small sparkle of energy shift across his palms.

Is that something he could do? Be a bard? He knew he could sing, and if he could get his hands on an instrument he could probably learn that as well. And with the magic he already seemed to have ……. could he really do that?

That night, as Juniper prepared a meager little stew for their supper, Scanlan found himself near bursting with what he wanted to ask. He’d decided that he needed to find the perfect time to bring it out, the perfect time when she was relaxed and calm and would be willing to listen.

Instruments cost money, money they could spend on more important things, but if he could use it to do magic, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth the money.

Maybe he could use that magic to get them out of this mess, to get out of their debt, to give them a better, happier life.

“Ibutē?” He asked, his voice soft and hesitant, but it pulled her attention from the pot in front of her all the same, her head tipped to the side in curiosity.

“What is little bird?” she asked, her eyes kind and encouraging, letting the stew bubble so that she could give him her whole attention.

“I ….. uh, I-I think …….. can we buy an instrument?” the elder gnome blinked owlishly at the question, clearly not having been expecting it. She looked at him blankly for a few moments before turning back to the pot, stirring away at the stew in silence.

“An instrument you say?” she asked, after the silence carried out for a few moments more, “And what brought this on exactly?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve always kind of wanted one, something small and airy, like a flute!” as he finally voiced the want he’d had for some time, he found himself growing more and more excited by the idea, “And, well, I met someone today. A bard.”

Juniper hummed in acknowledgement to his words before picking up two bowls, filling them full of stew, and carrying them over to where he was seated, handing him one before sitting down herself. It was hard to read her face, her expression rather blank compared to the looks she usually pulled.

It made him feel a bit more unsure of himself.

“She said that, well, she said that bard’s can channel magic through their music,” holding up a hand, he focused and allowed that bright energy to flit across, so that his mother could see, “And so I just thought ………..” At the mention of such things, Juniper seemed to stiffen, her blank expression changing to something more, borderline panic stricken.

Scanlan stared up at her, his face falling

“Ibutē?”

“I need time to think about this.” Setting her bowl down on the ground, she got to her feet and stiffly made her way out the door, closing it tightly behind herself. Scanlan stared after her, feeling tears form in his eyes.

Why had he said that? Why had he suggested that? Why had he even had that thought?

Feeling the tears stream down over his cheeks, he suddenly didn't feel very hungry anymore, abandoning his own bowl of stew to curl up in bed, trying hard to muffle his sobs in the thin material of his blanket.

The next morning, Scanlan was awoken to a light, airy, metallic sound. It was nice, and soothing, and made him bury further into bed.

But, when he realized that the sound was some sort of music, in his own home, he shot up straight, whipping his head about until his eyes landed on the figure of his ibutē. She was seated next to the fireplace, a fire already cracking away, metallic rod to her lips. Moving her fingers up and down the rod, he found that this object was the source of the beautiful sound.

She lifted her eyes from what she was doing, a familiar, pleased crinkle to them as he stared at her, awestruck. Letting out a few more notes, she lowered the flute to her lap and faced him with a very pleased, happy smile.

“Well, are you ready to learn?”


	2. Chapter 2

Peering around the side of the stone building, Scanlan looked from side to side. The street seemed to be mostly clear, with only one or two stragglers lingering about, meandering on their way to the market. 

Not that it would stay that way for long. 

Dipping out and around the corner, he scrambled up onto a familiar old box; just high enough that he could see out over a crowd, but not so high that he couldn’t climb onto it. 

Throwing a ratty old cap to the ground before him, he allowed himself a cheeky little smirk before pulling his flute to his lips and beginning to play. Within only the first song, the head’s of those few around where already turning in his direction, making their way over to get a proper look at the spectacle. Within the second song more people were appearing down the road, seeking the source of the astounding music they were hearing. And by only the third song, he had already managed to form a nice sized crowd. 

As he played, his tiny little fingers flying up and down the metallic instrument, he couldn’t help closing his eyes, allowing himself to be wrapped up in the sound he was bringing to life. His Ibutē said that the secret to creating real music was to feel what you were playing, to feel it as though it were a part of your own soul. According to her, it was the best way to reach people. A song that came from the heart appealed more to people than any old bar shanty. 

Not that he had to give too much thought to such things. The music and his feelings flowed freely from him, as if he were an underground well and his flute the pipe and faucet to carry the music up and out of him, so as to nourish those that would listen and hear. The first time he had played a song through completely, even though he had stumbled in a few places, he had managed to make Juniper cry. He’d thought that it was just her being a proud mother, but when he managed to evoke the same reaction from the Innkeeper Milby and her other workers later that day, he had to wonder if maybe he had a knack for these sorts of things. 

Which is why he had taken to these outings, with his ratty old cap, his flute, and his box. 

Juniper didn’t like him being in Stillben all by himself, but after his first outing, when he’d come back with more coin than she managed to make in a week, she had conceded to his doing it. 

She didn’t like it, but it was necessary.

He finished up with his usual set a little bit after midday, gracing his audience with a sweeping bow and a plethora of thanks and shows of gratitude. It took a few moments for the crowd to disperse before he leaped down from his perch to look at how much he had managed to make that day. 

Quickly counting it over, his eyes widened. 

“That’s it,” he whispered to himself, counting it all over again, “That’s it.” 

Quickly as possible, he pulled a sack from behind the box and started to shovel the coins inside, pleased to find that there was too much for his cap to hold. He was so preoccupied in this doing, in making sure no coin was left behind, that he didn’t notice the the two figures approaching him. Not until a shadow fell over him did the little gnome look up from his doings, blinking his large, brown eyes up at the large, imposing figure before him. 

“Hello there,” the half-orc’s voice was booming, but it was a cheerful and friendly sounding voice as he lowered a hand to where Scanlan was, “my name is Dranzel and this here is my associate, Theona,” the halfling made a sweeping bow when she was gestured to, “we couldn’t help but catch your astounding performance just now and thought we’d come introduce ourselves to the performer himself.”

Scanlan stared at the lowered hand for a moment, raised just a little bit above where his own head was, before reaching up and giving it a shake. 

“The name’s Scanlan Shorthalt,” he said, smiling wide at the two, “I’m glad ya liked it, a lil bit of me worried that it wasn’t any good.”

“Wasn’t any good? You hear that Theona? Lil guy thought his music might not be that good!” The half-orc shook as a loud, belly full laugh escaped him, the halfling throwing him a very pointed look. 

“Don’t make fun of him Dranzel, he’s just a boy,” turning her attention back to the gnome, she moved so that she was squatting just before him, her arms rested atop her knees and a friendly smile on her face, “Now, what’s a boy like you doing here all by himself?” 

The halfling’s voice and expression betrayed no hint of ill will, at least nothing that Scanlan could pick up on. Though he understood that it wasn’t safe to drop his guard around strangers, even kindly seeming ones like this. 

Instead of answering, he held up one of the coins to where she could clearly see it, before burying it in the sack with all of the others. 

“Ah, making a bit of extra coin,” she nodded, “but, where’s your mother?”

“At home.”

“And where might that be?” 

Scanlan fidgeted with the fraying edge of the sack, starting to feel uncomfortable at her pressing questions. Why did she want to know so badly? Did they wanna know cause they were planning on snatching him up? He’d heard plenty of stories of little boys and girls going off on their own and disappearing, never to be seen again. The thought that the same might happen to him filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. 

If he didn’t come home, what would Ibutē think? Would she look for him? Would she sad, or would she be happy that she didn't have to worry about him anymore? Would it destroy her? Would it-

“Come on now lad, we don’t mean no harm,” the weight of a large hand on his shoulder pulled Scanlan from his panic stricken thoughts, looking into the face of the half-orc who, it seemed, had similarly crouched down so as to be at closer eye level to him, “jes worried that you might be needin some help is all. After all, if you were one of them street kids and we didn’t do a thing to help you out, well we’d feel right rotten about that.” Theona nodded in agreement. 

Looking into the half-orc’s eyes, Scanlan found only honesty and sincerity in them, and made a desicion. 

“My home’s in a village just a little ways out of the city,” he explained, finally managing to shovel the last of the coin into his sack and then giving the two before him his full attention, “My Ibutē is there. She knows I’m here, before you ask. I come here to play and make a bit more money.” 

The two satred at him for a few more moments before sharing a glance between themselves. They each nodded and then raised to their full heights, the half-orc towering over him once again. 

“If you’re really tellin the truth and don’t need ur help, then we’ll be on our way,” with a wave of their hands, the two turned away to leave, the half-orc throwing back over his shoulder, “might be seein each other again someday Scanlan Shorthalt.”

As he got to his feet, tossing the sack of coin over his shoulder, and watching the two go, Scanlan couldn’t help but notice a weird feeling in his gut. 

He got out of the city as quickly as he could, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention but also wanting to get the coin back home as soon as possible. 

It was finally what they needed, and he’d be damned if he let any thieves get their hands on it. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time the first of the ramshackle homes appeared over the rise, beckoning him home, though not very kindly. 

Regardless of their overall state, they helped to quicken his pace even more, and in only a few moments he’d managed to clear the village. Stepping inside their modest home, he was pleased to find that Juniper was still at work. 

_ ‘That way it can be a surprise,’  _ he thought to himself, quite gleefully, as he hid the sack of coins under the bed. 

Finding himself with a bit of time to spare, he decided to practice more of his flute’s other use. Settling down in the middle of the hovel, he raised the rod to his lips and began to play. 

As he played, he focused on that familiar source of energy, sourcing it in his hands and then moving it up and into the flute, allowing bits of it to ride out on the notes. The energy appeared as nothing more than little, purple lights.

It wasn’t much, but since achieving this small accomplishments, the energy that so often came rocketing out with his emotions had dwindled substantially. 

Now he only made lightning shoot out of his hands when he was really, really angry. 

He kept at this for a short while, until a familiar voice came drifting in through the window. She was singing an unfamiliar old gnomish song; something about finding family in the most unlikely of places. As she opened the door, her son couldn’t help jumping up to wrap his arms around her in a great big hug. 

“I missed you.” he chirped, looking up at her with sparkling eyes. 

“And I you my little bird,” gracing him with a tired smile, she moved from his embrace to set down the basket she was carrying, “So, how much have you brought us today? Hmmm, my little performer?”

With hardly continue glee, he raced over to the bed, quickly clawing at the sack and bringing it to her, dumping its contents onto the floor before her. 

“Count it,” he insisted as she dropped to her knees to do just that, “It’s everything we need.” 

After a few moments of quiet muttering and pointing, Juniper feel silent. She remained silent for a few moments more, before looking up at Scanlan with wide eyes. 

“It’s-it’s enough,” she muttered, her voice shaky and her hand trembling as she moved it through the coins, “It’s more than enough.” 

“I know,” Scanlan was practically vibrating in his spot with how excited he was, “And just in time. Jon comes to collect the day after tomorrow, right?”

Juniper nodded, her gaze returned to the coin before her, clearly stunned into silence. 

“Scanlan,” she finally said, looking back up and pulling him into a rib crushing embrace, “Oh my clever, wonderful, amazing, talented little bird! You’ve done it! You’ve saved us!!” 

Scanlan had no words to say that. 

 

“Well I’ll be, it’s all there. Every last coin.” The gnome seemed surprised, counting through the coins a second, a third, a fourth time, as though he simply could not grasp what was in front of him. 

Juniper made no complaints about this, only too happy to let him take as long as he needed to assure himself. 

It was all there, and she knew it. 

“Well, as per the agreement, you and your boy can continue to stay here,” Jon smiled, seemingly pleased at being able to say this, “rent will still be due at the regular times. But,” he leaned in close, his voice lowering to a whisper, “i’ll give you a little heads up, but due to this show of responsibility, the big man might allow the amount to be lowered.”

“Oh, Jon.” Tears started to form in Juniper’s eyes, her heart beating faster at the idea that things might be looking up for them. 

“Like I said, he might, not guaranteed, but I’ll definitely put a good word in for you.” With that, he took the sack of coins, bid Juniper farewell with a tip of his hat, and left the home, sauntering down the street. 

Scanlan watched as he passed by, from his place in the doorway of Milby’s inn. Said elf was stood beside him, wiping her brow with a dirty rag. 

“He’s lookin pretty happy, so I’m guessin yer mother weren’t just tellin tales.” The older woman noted, her voice betraying a genuine sense of being impressed. 

“Yup.” Scanlan could hardly speak past the smile on his face, so happy was he that the fear and the worry was finally over. 

Not that it meant his work was over. 

“But Ibutē, listen-”

“No Scanlan, I won't hear any more of this,” Juniper placed her hands over his hips in a show of authority, puffing out her chest and making herself appear bigger, “we’re not in any immediate danger so I don’t want you going all the way to Stilben by yourself to play.”

“But Ibutē, there’s still more rent due, and who knows if work will stay stable for you,” Scanlan was insistent from his place standing atop the bed, his arms outstretched in a pleading gesture, “let me keep playing there and making more money. Maybe we can even buy nicer things and finally live comfort-”

“Enough!! My answer is no and that is final!!” 

Scanlan recoiled as his mother shouted, his face crestfallen as he looked into her eyes, ablaze with a rare show of anger. With tears brimming in his eyes, he jumped down from the bed and raced out of the home, ignoring Juniper’s calls for him to come back. 

He ran as fast as his little legs could take him, heading in the familiar direction of the nearby forest. Even once he fell beneath the cover of the trees, the shaded areas near pitch black in the dark of the night, he continued to run, his breath coming in shallow, painful gasps. 

But he wouldn’t stop. He refused to stop. 

Why wouldn’t she let him do this? 

Why wouldn’t she let him help her? 

Why did she insist on torturing herself just so he didn’t have to?

He ran, and ran, and ran, until something caught his foot. With a loud yelp, he fell face forward, his nose smashing into the hard packed ground. He lay there, dazed for a moment, before rising up from the ground. Putting a hand to his aching face, he pulled it back and was able to make out the darkness of blood with his dark sight, aware of the chill of it all over his lower face. 

With tears streaming down his cheeks and blooding pouring over his mouth, he curled up at a base of a tree, hugging his knees to himself as he sobbed, rocking back and forth. 

It wasn’t fair. 

He wanted to help her, to make things better for her. 

Why wouldn’t she let him?

He stayed that way for a good, long while, to nothing but the sound of his hiccups and hard breathing. After a little bit, he started to feel a bit light headed and got to his feet, deciding that it was time to get home. 

That is, when the sound of a shrill, ear piercing shriek reached him. 

Jumping at the sound, he turned in the direction it had come from, alarmed to find that it was from the same direction that he had come. With a feeling of dread, he started to make his way quickly back through the forest, hoping and praying that it was nothing, just some little thing. But then the smell of smoke reached his nose, a dim, orange light appearing through the trees, and soon sounds of panic began to reach his ears.

Scanlan took off runnin, ignoring his already pounding heart and how dizzy he felt, tripping and stumbling every which way, but determined to get back. Once he broke through the tree line, he found himself frozen in shock. 

His village had been set ablaze. 

The smell of smoke was now overwhelming, the already dark sky made even darker with the black clouds billowing up from the blazing buildings. 

The sounds of fear and panic were also accompanied by loud, horrific sounds. Monstrous and guttural and wet, as if made by some form of beasts. 

Scanlan finally managed to come back to himself, blinking at the shocking sight before him before returning to his run, making his way into the village limits. 

What he found within was utter chaos and horror; homes were set completely ablaze, villagers ran about screaming, pools of liquid littered the ground in such a way that Scanlan knew it was not water. 

The most horrific part of it all was the monsters. Green and lumpy and crude, carrying sharp edged weapons and cackling and growling to one another as they chased after the panicked villagers. 

Scanlan knew what these things where, he’d heard enough horror stories from his Ibutē to know a goblin when he saw one. 

Seeing them, all of his childhood nightmares came to light, filling him with even more of a sense of urgency. 

In all of the chaos and fire and smoke and blood, it was easy to get turned around. But Scanlan was small and could keep out of sight and eventually managed to make his way home, horrified to find the door wide open, knocked off it’s hinges. Peaking inside, his heart nearly lept out of his chest when he saw Juniper, her face, arms, and dress splattered with blood. It wans’t until he noticed the sword in her hands and the goblin on the ground before him, a pool of blood growing around it, that his heart returned to him. 

“Oh, Scanlan,” she made her way to him quickly, wrapping him up in a one armed hug, “I’m so happy you’re alright, I was so worried,” looking down either end of the street, she pushed him back out into the street and grabbed his hand, “come, we need to get out of here.” With that she took off running, Scanlan struggling to keep up behind her. He couldn't help but look around as they ran, at the carnage around them. 

All of the blood, and the smoke and flames, and the screaming; Scanlan felt horribly dizzy and found his legs unable to work properly anymore, falling to the ground, slightly held up by his hand in his mother’s grasp. 

“Scanlan, please, you have to get up, we have to keep going.” Juniper pleaded, trying to drag him back to his feet, but Scanlan’s body and head just lolled at the action. 

The world was spinning around him, and the ground seemed to sway when he tried to steady himself. 

Suddenly he was being shoved to the ground, something stood over top of him. He could just barely make out a voice, low and snarling, “stay away from him,” before a loud scream.

And then, everything went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just horrible, aren't I? :3c
> 
> The thing with Dranzel wasn't in the original plan rather it just sort of happened. But when it did, I thought it quite a clever thing, considering how the sort of light that relationship will be getting in this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Ibutē - Thee is no actual gnomish language translator for me to use so I have to come up with words of my own, so this is the gnomish word for 'mother', i that wasn't already obvious.
> 
> Credit to Pen_Brush for Sindra


End file.
